


No, Sir, Why?

by dreamlittleyo



Series: Glass 'Verse [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boss/Employee Relationship, Feelings, Lawyers, M/M, Pining, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 07:57:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16013636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: Alexander still has a thing for his boss, and Washington receives a job offer.





	No, Sir, Why?

"You're not taking the job, are you?" The question comes out more plaintive than Hamilton intends, but he doesn't try to walk it back. There's no point pretending he _isn't_ appalled at the idea.

Washington raises a single eyebrow without looking up from his work. The surface of his impressive desk is covered in case files—physical paper because Washington is old-fashioned—and the rest of the office has fallen to a similar state. Any surface flat enough to stack things on has been overtaken by a tower of manilla envelopes and legal pads and accordion folders. The state of this office is proof that the case they're currently defending is among the most complicated and high-stakes the firm has ever seen.

Alexander sits across from Washington, ostensibly taking notes, though he just forfeited any pretense of being focused on his task.

Washington's eyebrow lowers, and Hamilton does his best to ignore the swell of ill-timed admiration that rises in his chest. His infatuation—inconvenient as it is—has only worsened since he began working even more closely with Washington on this damn case. These feelings are never far from the surface of his thoughts, but his distraction is all the worse in moments like this, when he can stare unchallenged at his boss's handsome face. When the late hour has inspired Washington to shed his jacket and tie, leaving him in his vest, and his button-up shirt with the collar undone.

It's clear Washington heard him—but is not going to answer—which means Alexander should leave well enough alone.

Instead he says, "Sir?"

"I'm not sure what job you're referring to, my boy. You certainly can't mean the offer I received today. I haven't told anyone about it, and I can't imagine you would stoop to reading my private correspondence."

Alexander flushes, but doesn't deny or apologize for his nosiness. Of course he read the letter, and of course Washington knows. If Hamilton were in actual trouble, he'd be facing an explosion rather than this dry rebuke.

"All due respect, sir?" he says. "But you're no prosecutor." The time and resources he's already sunk into the case surrounding them now—a complicated criminal defense for a woman who can't even pay, who Hamilton's not entirely certain is innocent—makes the point irrefutably.

"The state of New York clearly disagrees."

"The state of New York doesn't know you like I do," Hamilton retorts, and immediately regrets his tone. Too honest, and _definitely_ insubordinate. This is not how a junior associate should address a founding partner of the firm—no matter what Alexander's feelings for him might be—no matter how many special privileges come with being Washington's favorite, and his unofficial right-hand man.

He doesn't bother pointing out the lower salary, or the fact that Washington would have to set aside his stake in the firm he helped create in order to pursue such a career shift. Alexander also doesn't protest that if Washington leaves private practice to become a prosecutor for the state, Hamilton can't follow him. 

He's not completely delusional; he knows damn well Washington doesn't need him the way Alexander needs Washington. If _Hamilton_ accepted a job elsewhere, would Washington even notice beyond the inconvenience of reassigning his case load?

Maybe. Hopefully. Alexander has done his best to render himself indispensable. And there are days he's sure Washington genuinely likes him, as a person and not just an efficient professional resource.

Washington is still watching him across the desk, wearing a strange mix of disapproval and curiosity. The way he's not speaking can only be deliberate; he's waiting for Alexander to either remedy his outburst or dig the hole deeper.

Alexander modulates his tone into something less petulant. More professional, if only by the faintest degree.

"I'm just saying you would be miserable. Not that you'd be bad at it."

Washington eases back in his chair, capping his pen and relaxing his posture. "This really bothers you." He looks startled at the idea.

Alexander makes a concerted effort not to scowl. "Maybe."

Washington considers him silently for a long time before saying, "You're right that the position is… not an ideal fit. There are drawbacks. But it would make me a stronger candidate for a judgeship down the line."

Alexander blinks in surprise. "You want to be a judge?"

How did he not know this?

Washington gives a one-shouldered shrug. "Someday. I'm in no hurry. It's idle speculation at the moment, but new opportunities are worth considering."

Alexander bites his lower lip to keep from arguing. _Not this opportunity_ , he aches to protest. His reasoning is far from professional. He can't fault Washington's logic. There is no argument he can make that will hold up under real scrutiny, and the last thing he needs is for Washington to realize just how personal his investment actually is.

Washington's expression softens, barely perceptibly. "For what it's worth… No. I likely won't accept the offer. There are other ways to improve my chances, and I'm in no hurry."

Alexander exhales, failing utterly to mask his relief. He receives an exasperated smile in answer.

A lengthy silence stretches between them, verging on awkward. Before Alexander can find some innocuous way to change the subject, Washington stands and rolls his shoulders in a tired gesture.

"I think we've accomplished everything we can tonight. Let's pack it in and start fresh tomorrow."

"Okay." Alexander sets his own stack of papers on the corner of Washington's desk and rises from his chair. It's late—they should both have gone home hours ago—but Alexander wasn't going to sound the retreat.

"Come along, then." Washington collects his coat and tie from the chair where he discarded them over three hours ago. "I'll give you a ride home."

Alexander's face flushes at the imperiousness of what feels more like a command than an offer. But he doesn't protest. Even if public transit weren't a dubious prospect at this hour, Alexander will never turn down the particular torment of being alone in a car with Washington.

"Thank you, sir," he says, stepping into the hall as Washington flips the light switch and locks the door behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Prosecute, Admiration, Privilege


End file.
